


KITE

by Siyah_Kedi



Category: Original Work
Genre: old, originally written in 2012
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 19:12:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14503641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siyah_Kedi/pseuds/Siyah_Kedi
Summary: I don't even know.  This was a Nanowrimo attempt in 2012, apparently.





	1. Press Play

**CHAPTER ONE:** PRESS PLAY

 

Right up until the moment they let him through the doors into the massive recording studio, Josslin thought it was some sort of scam.  Neither his mother’s reassurances nor his father’s vicious background checks into the people who were running the whole operation convinced him, and on the day of the audition he was more than half-afraid they were walking into some sort of trap.  He didn’t know what he was expecting – terrorists, maybe, or perhaps they were going to be held at gunpoint and robbed, beaten, and left for dead – but a friendly young woman behind a desk wearing a cheerful smile and a scarf around her neck wasn’t it.

“Oh, you must be Josslin Cooper.  Please sign in here,” she added, handing him a pen and a clipboard.  Other names were already there, indicating that although they were a full two hours early, others had had the same idea.  Bemused at having been recognised by a total stranger, Josslin signed his name and accepted a second clipboard. 

“Lots of paperwork to be done.  You’ll be called into the testing area in just a few minutes, so please have a seat and fill that out while you’re waiting,” the girl said.  “My name’s Mina Green, and I’ll be available to answer any questions you have.”

Josslin sat down and started filling out the paperwork while his mother drifted over to Mina and started asking about the contest. He listened with half an ear.

“Oh yes, of course.  The YouTube contest was a fantastic idea.  It cuts down on the crowds here, since it’s not exactly a massive studio.  We’ve already had one breakout hit with the girl group _expand_ and a huge number of people entered this time.  I think the number was something around ten thousand applicants.  We’ve narrowed it down to about a thousand, and we’re doing it in batches of two hundred over the next week.”

The paperwork was the usual bland sort, and Josslin was done with it rather quickly.  “So what happens now?”  Ten thousand applicants, he thought, and she remembered my name.  That had to count for _something,_ right?

Then again, she was only a receptionist.

Mina smiled at him.   “Individual matches.  None of this will be televised, but if you happen to make it in – and just between you and me,” she lowered her voice and leaned forward, “I’m pretty sure you’ve got it in the bag.  The producers were _extremely_ impressed with your video.  If you happen to make it in,” she continued, “then there will be a program filmed to generate interest, as well as various events.  You’re okay being on camera as well as a stage, right?”

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, Josslin nodded silently. 

“Josslin Cooper,” said a voice from the far door.  “Good, I’m glad you’re here.  Come on back – your parents can come too if they want – and we’ll start getting set up.”  A man with a friendly grin stood in the door, propping it open with his foot.  “I’m Miles Turner, I’ll be managing KITE if we ever get past this audition.  You must be his parents, it’s lovely to meet you.  Josslin has some real talent tucked away in there, you must be real proud.” 

Hating to be talked over like he wasn’t there, and still nonplussed about the comments – he’d just been doing what he loved, dancing and singing, and apparently everyone was going nuts over it – Josslin slipped past Turner into the next room.  About thirty other boys between thirteen and twenty were already milling around and he remembered that about two hundred would be competing today.  A massive poster on the far wall drew his attention, and he saw a diagram outlining how the eliminations would be scheduled. 

Out of every two hundred applicants per day, only ten would be asked back.  Then next week, the remaining fifty would be narrowed down to only five, and those five would form the new group they were building.  Josslin swallowed a sudden lump in his throat.  It was something every kid dreamed about – getting the call that said they wanted to make you famous.  And stranger things had happened; hadn’t that Bieber kid been picked up off YouTube completely at random? 

A lilting, slightly accented voice came from beside him.  “I don’t envy them the selection process.” 

Josslin turned and caught his breath.  The guy was _gorgeous._ A distinctly Asian cast to his face in the tilt of his eyes, the new boy held out his hand.  “Hiro Fujimiya.”

Josslin took it.  “Josslin Cooper,” he said.  “So have you always dreamed about being in a boy band or are you just taking advantages where you find them?”

Hiro laughed.  “Mm, little of both I think.” 

They stood together while the rest of the applicants filed in. 

*

The process was incredibly smooth, for all that they had so many people to get through in such a short time.  Broken up into groups of twenty, each boy was tested on pitch, ability to take direction, and how quickly they picked up the lyrics.  They were all good, though some stood out above the rest as great.  Josslin was well pleased with himself when it turned out that he was one of these, and grinned widely when the Asian boy, Hiro, also made a good showing. 

At the end of the day, Josslin was wiped out, starving, and dripping with sweat, but he was among the top ten left and invited back the following Monday for the next round.  When Hiro caught his eye, he flipped him two thumbs up.

“Congratulations!” Marianne Cooper was so happy she might as well have been glowing with it.  “I knew you could do it!” She degenerated into a wordless squeal for a moment, and then Josslin turned and saw the pleased grin on his father’s face. 

“This calls for a celebration,” he said, and then suddenly it caught up with him.

He’d just beat out a hundred and ninety other people for a major record deal.  The little pessimistic part of his brain piped up a moment later and reminded him that he still had over fourty to beat during the next round, but he was feeling too good about the day to let it bother him. 

 

At the restaurant they garnered minor fame when Josslin’s father couldn’t keep his mouth shut about his prodigal son’s achievements.  The waitress didn’t believe them at first, and it was at that point that Marianne brought out the iPad and showed off the video he’d sent in as his entry.  That lead to the manager finding out and getting involved, which ultimately ended in Josslin plugging his iPod into the restaurant’s speakers and performing a one-man version of the popular dance right there in the restaurant. 

One of the girls eating at a nearby table recognised the dance and slipped him her number as she and her family were leaving.  Josslin crumpled the paper in embarrassment, but not before his mother noticed it.

“Just don’t let the attention go to your head,” she advised him.

“As if,” he replied, rolling his eyes.  Marianne smirked at him.

“Anyway, she wasn’t nearly as cute as that boy you were talking to earlier, was she?  What was his name, anyway?”

Josslin felt his face flush violently.  His father coughed and looked away but didn’t comment.  He was totally okay with his sexuality, and Marianne supported him no matter what, but his father, Jon, wasn’t entirely comfortable with it.  “Uh, Hiro,” Josslin muttered.

“He made it to the next round too, didn’t he?  Did you get his number?”

Josslin sank into the seat and wished the table would swallow him. 

“Come on, Mari, we’re here to celebrate, not give him a stroke,” Jon intervened before it got any worse.  Marianne rolled her eyes good-naturedly, but when Jon looked away she elbowed Josslin and shot him a saucy wink.

Josslin sighed.  Sometimes just living with his parents was like being at school.

 

After the longest week in the history of calendars, it was Saturday and the fifty finalists had been called back to the studio. 

Once there, they were told they had two days to learn both the song to be sung and the choreography arranged by a famous dancer who’d gotten his start on the television program “So You Think You Can Dance.”  Since lyrics had always come easily to Josslin, he wasn’t worried, and it would give him the majority of the weekend to learn the dance. 

As expected, he’d learned the song within an hour and a half, and had just turned his attention to the choreography when Hiro dropped into step beside him.  Josslin flashed him a mischievous grin and turned his attention to the huge mirrored wall, watching the way their arms flung out in unison as they stomped forward. 

They looked – good.  _Really_ good. 

A third boy joined them, his hair a riotous mass of curls.  “Mind if I join you?” he said, shouting to be heard over the pounding music.  “My name’s Noah!”

“I’m Josslin, and this is Hiro,” Josslin called back, stumbling slightly as the dance turned to a sort of hop-skip that tangled his feet. 

Noah beamed.  “Joss like Joss Whedon?”

Josslin wrinkled his nose as Hiro laughed at him.  “No, Joss _lin_.  I hate it when it’s shortened.”

Noah slowed to a stop and stuck out his hand.  “Fair enough.  Good to meet you!  You guys are really good.  Do you think you’ll make it?”

The three boys turned around and looked out over the huge crowd.  Pocket groups like theirs had formed all over the room, some practicing the song and others working on the dance.  Even at a brief glance, Josslin could see some who were going to fail.  A few of the boys in the corner were muddling the dance steps so badly he was half-afraid they were going to hurt themselves. 

“Man, how’d they get this far if they don’t know their right foot from their left?” Noah whined, following Josslin’s gaze. 

“Maybe they sing really nicely,” Josslin suggested.

“Maybe they’re sleeping with the producer,” Hiro inserted.  Noah and Josslin turned to stare at him.  He just shrugged.  “It happens.”

“Yeah, in movies,” Noah snorted. 

A flash of red near the ground caught Josslin’s eye, but when he looked closer, there was nothing there.  Hiro caught his eye and tilted his head questioningly.

“I thought I saw,” Josslin began, but then because he couldn’t say “a dog” as there were clearly no animals in the studio, he finished with, “Nothing, never mind.” 

*

By Sunday afternoon, every muscle in Hiro’s body ached.  He hurt in places he didn’t even know he _had_ , and it was almost embarrassing.  He’d always thought of himself as a good dancer with a possibility for greatness if he kept at it, but nothing he’d done in his life had prepared him for the Plettis-A bootcamp he found himself in now.  After the practice sessions Saturday morning, they’d been put through drills more demanding than anything he’d ever heard about military bootcamp, and forced to practice stretching and holding bizarre positions and freezing in place without wobbling or dropping. 

He’d slept like the dead Saturday night, much to Neko’s displeasure, and then had to get up Sunday morning and do it all over again.  At least the dance had been drilled into him.  After only one day, Hiro was pretty sure he could do that stupid dance in his sleep. 

Then they’d been subjected to vocal training.  Split into five groups of ten, the most exacting vocal instructor Hiro had ever had the displeasure of seeing had forced them to sing over and over – and over and over and over – until he was completely satisfied that they weren’t holding notes too long or not long enough, that they were hitting the precise pitch, the vowels were enunciated and there was no diphthong.  

After a two hour lunch-and-rest break, the Plettis-A producers and the future manager split everyone up and tested them on everything.

“I thought the decision was tomorrow,” Noah whined from somewhere in the back.  When Hiro turned to look at him, he winked. 

“We need to see how well everyone does together in order to make a decision about the group,” said Miles.  The pretty girl with hot-pink hair Hiro had been seeing around rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, looking bored.  After running through the dance with nearly fourty other people, the manager drew the other two away a little further while they consulted their notes.  The pink-haired girl blew a bubble with her gum. 

Finally, they called names and began to split them all up further into ten groups of five.  Hiro groaned, but was exceedingly pleased to see that Josslin had been put into his group.  At his feet, Neko gave a yipping bark, reacting to Hiro’s delighted smile. 

Fortunately, no one else noticed. 

Hiro, Josslin, and Noah were part of one group, and Noah let out a girlish shriek when the name Adam West was called to join them, and despite the fact that he was only about five feet tall, somehow managed to leap three feet into the air in order to cling to the back of the tall newcomer.

“Guys, guys! This is my best friend, Adam.  Adam, this is Hiro and Josslin, not Joss.  Isn’t this great?  We’re going to be the best ever!”

Slightly more subdued, Josslin smiled warmly and shook Adam’s hand.  Hiro offered his next. 

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Adam mumbled.  His words were muffled, but his grin was wide, and Hiro felt that it wouldn’t be terrible to have him around. 

“Don’t mind Adam, he’s just shy,” Noah reassured them, patting Adam on the head before letting go and dropping back to the ground. 

When Zachary Thompson was called to join them, they went through the introduction process all over again, and then all the boys had been separated into groups of five. 

The future manager stood up on the dais at the far end of the room and turned on a microphone.  “Excuse me,” he said, and amplified, his voice echoed slightly.  The groups settled down and turned their attention to him.  “Alright, excellent job, guys!  After extensive discussions, and a lot of watching how you work and what you’ve been doing over the last week, we’ve made this decision.  Look around at the four other boys in your group.

“This is KITE.  Your group today will be your support in tomorrow’s final competition, and if you win, your brothers and friends.” As an aside, he added, “We actually incorporated the personality test you took on your first audition into the decision, so hopefully there won’t be any clashes.  If there is, I hope you find them between now and tomorrow night, because if not, you’ll just have to deal with it once the final decision has been made. 

“You’re here today because you have drive, talent, and perseverance.  You all beat out the thousands of other contenders for this chance to make it big, and now’s your chance.  Spend the rest of tonight and tomorrow morning getting to know your new band-mates, learn how you’re going to stand during the dance, and practice.  Tomorrow at three we’ll be taking each group into a recording studio where you’ll record the song.  Then at seven, the KITE Championships will begin!  You will not be required – immediately – to sing and dance at the same time.  There will be time for practicing that later.  However!” Hiro jumped as his voice rose suddenly.  “Make it look like you’re singing along while you dance so that we have an idea of what it’ll look and sound like.  That’s pretty much everything I have to say, except for good luck to you all!  You are among the most talented young men I’ve ever laid eyes on, congratulations for making it this far.”

He started to step down, and then suddenly seemed to remember something else.  “Oh, and one more thing,” he said.  “Do not be discouraged if you’re not selected tomorrow night.  I meant what I said about you all being talented, and there are other opportunities within Plettis-A for backup dancers and singers, and there will, in the future, be further contests and auditions when we decide to branch out again.  This is not the end of the road!  This is just the beginning!”

The boys let out a thunderous roar of cheering , and Miles threw his hands up above his head and clapped for them. 

Josslin slid a discreet glance towards Hiro, who caught it and smiled.  Neko yipped again, adding his voice to the cacophony. 


	2. Introducing: KITE

**CHAPTER TWO:** INTRODUCING: KITE

Josslin rolled out of bed Monday morning and nearly groaned out loud.  He hurt all over, and he just had more of the same to look forward to.  _At least today’s the last day.  It’s now or never._  

A sudden icy panic gripped him.  What if they failed?  What if he didn’t make it?  Could he be happy as a backup dancer?

_I’d damn well better get used to it, I guess, if it happens._

Forcibly shoving his apprehensions away from him, Josslin stood up and stretched.   He’d overslept – making up for the past weekend, which had included eighteen hour days – and only had four hours to get dressed and ready, and be at the studio. 

It seemed like nothing was happening, or that everything was happening very quickly, but he knew also that a lot was going on behind the scenes.  Adam West’s uncle was one of the higher-ups in Plettis-A – not, he’d assured them hurriedly, that that had anything to do with his application – and had shared some of what went on during the selection process.  Teams of people were working around the clock to match up the personality profiles they’d created, to listen to each singer individually and combine them with others to create the most pleasing combinations, and examine the video footage of their dancing to see who was weak and who needed help with what areas. 

In practically the blink of an eye it was two o’clock and time for him to leave.  Marianne, his mother, was practically vibrating in her seat she was so excited. 

“I just know you’ll do well,” she reassured him.  “I feel it in my bones, this is going to be great!”

His dad rolled his eyes.  “I had no idea so much work went into these things.  In my day, musicians formed their own bands and then tried to make it big from the bottom up.”

Josslin leaned forward and clapped his father on the shoulder. “Welcome to the information age,” he said.  “Everything’s done on YouTube these days.”

Jonathon Cooper just shook his head.  “I never did understand the appeal of YouTwo,” he said. 

“Tube, dear, like the television,” Marianne said, patting his shoulder consolingly.  Jon just sighed and kept driving.

 

Josslin was the first to arrive.  Since the first song – “Press Play”- was lacking only it’s vocal track, and they’d all learned the lyrics over the weekend, it would be a relatively quick process to actually go and record it.  Noah was almost right behind him, and then by two fifty the crowd had regathered.  Josslin recognised most of them by sight after having spent the weekend with them all, but he only knew his own group by name. 

Hiro high-fived him when he arrived, and Noah’s irrepressible grin seemed to brighten the whole room. 

Each group was given a number one through ten, and they were instructed to write their names on the paper and tape it to their shirts.  Josslin helped Hiro tape his while Noah helped him, and after a general chaotic shuffle everyone was identified.  Josslin and the others were three.

“I have a good feeling about this,” Hiro said.  “Three is my lucky number.”

Zack looked unconvinced.  “Bad things come in threes, too,” he reminded them dourly.

Miles Turner, the future manager, cleared his throat to get their attention.  “Okay, this number will identify you with your group, and is also the order you will be recording – and later, performing – in.  So if I can have group one through this door right now, we’ll get you guys started with recording the song.”

Josslin watched the five members of group one troop through the indicated doorway, looking more like men facing their execution than a hopeful music group facing a microphone. 

 

(AFTER THE COMPETITION, TO GET THE SCENE OUT OF MY HEAD)

All fifty contestants gathered in the audience and watched as Miles came back out onto the stage with a card in his hand.  Adam had the first two fingers of both hands crossed so hard the tendons were straining in his arms, and Noah was chewing his lip ragged, his ever-present smile missing for once. 

Miles turned on the microphone and cleared his throat.  “Thank you to all of you for coming out tonight!”  The parents, friends, and contestants cheered.  Miles waited for the noise to die down before continuing.  “This is the part I hate the most,” he said.  “Groups two, five, six, nine and ten.”  The selected groups stood up and faced Miles as though he were a one-man firing squad.  “I’m very sorry to say that we can’t offer you anything this time.  You did extremely well, and we were so proud to have had you, so please don’t think of this as failure!  I want you to know that although you didn’t make it _this_ time, it’s not the end of the road.  Not only are there hundreds of other opportunities out there for young talented young men such as yourselves, we here at Plettis-A have a guaranteed offer.  Should any of you audition for anything Plettis-A does in the future, you are (I had this earlier, where did it go!? Already used Guaranteed.) guaranteed a top spot in future competitions. 

“I never wanted you to have to face disappointment so young, especially after having beaten out all the rest of the applicants to get this far.  Don’t be discouraged, because if it’s meant to be, you’ll get it.  Keep trying, good luck in the future, and thank you for coming out and putting so much effort into this.  You’ve really helped make Plettis-A a five-star company.”  With crestfallen expressions, they resumed their seats; from his vantage point, Josslin could see some of them nodding, apparently knowing somehow that they weren’t going to make it.

He took a sip of water from a bottle beside him on the podium and shuffled his cue cards before continuing.  “Next, slightly better news for some of you, at least this time around.   Groups one, four, seven, and eight, we here at Plettis-A would like to offer you all a contract as backup dancers for _expand_ , KITE, and any future groups we manage to pull together.  The producers and everyone involved were extremely impressed by your talent and skills.  You are not required to sign any contracts with us if this isn’t the direction you want to take your careers, but I’d like to add that it would be a prime opportunity for advancement from within; like the others, with or without a contract with our company you will be offered a spot on any and all future competitions just for making it this far.”

Hiro’s fingers twined with Josslin’s, and they squeezed so hard Josslin could feel the bones creaking.  “Who does that leave?”

“Us,” Noah squeaked. 

Josslin gaped.  “What?”

Adam nodded.  “One, two, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten were all called already.  We’re last.”  It was the most Josslin had heard him say in one go so far.  Usually Adam opened his mouth only to sing. 

Up on the stage, Miles was beaming over the crowd.  “And that leaves our first place finalists, group three!  Adam West, Zack Thompson, Josslin Cooper, Hiro Fujimiya, and Noah Crawford, would you please join me up here?”

In a foggy daze, Josslin allowed Hiro to pull him to his feet and up towards the stairs.  It wasn’t until his feet hit the stage for the second time that night that it truly sank in that it was really happening.  Noah was bouncing up and down like a demented jack-in-the-box, alternately waving his arms around like a loon and smacking poor Adam on the shoulder.  Adam, evidently used to this sort of behaviour, allowed it placidly. 

Even the morose Zack Thompson was grinning widely.  Josslin had no idea what expression was on his face, but he decided it must be stupid when Hiro turned around and chuckled at him, eyes crinkling at the corners.  It wasn’t until they reached the microphone and Miles, when Josslin’s hand suddenly felt cold, that he realised they’d been hanging on to each other like teenaged girls the entire time. 

The entire crowd, even the twenty five boys who hadn’t made it even as far as additionals, was screaming its collective head off. 

“I’m Miles Cooper,” Miles bellowed into the microphone.  “And it is my honour, my privilege, my profound pleasure to introduce to you the new faces of Plettis-A, _KITE_!”

Impossibly, the decibel level soared to somewhere just short of a jet take-off. 

From the stage, Josslin could see his mother with tears of joy streaming down her face, while his father filmed the proceedings on his iPhone.  Noah was screaming too, but Josslin could only tell because he could see Adam flinching every so often.  The sound of his heartbeat in his ears drowned out everything else, especially when Hiro turned to him with a delighted smile. 

Something reddish brown streaked across Josslin’s vision, close to the floor, but he couldn’t see what it was. 

Finally, the music overwhelmed even his pounding heart.  The five boys shared a glance between them, and then as though they’d planned it in advance, they began dancing.  Miles added his voice to the cacophony, screaming over and over, “This is KITE!”

It was, in hindsight, the best day of Josslin’s life. 


	3. Trailers, and Other Mysterious Things

**CHAPTER THREE:** TRAILERS AND OTHER MYSTERIOUS THINGS

They were allowed to go home on very strict orders to get plenty of rest, because a lot of things now had to happen very quickly.  Back at his apartment, Hiro looked down at the fox spirit that followed him and couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face.  Apparently the recording of Press Play they’d made for the competition would be released as their first single on the radio, and then in a move borrowed directly from the insanely popular Asian groups, they would be recording teasers. 

Then according to the schedule Miles had hurriedly pressed into his hands – it took up the next six months and offered almost no free time – they would be traveling around the United States filming a television show to raise awareness of KITE and perhaps convert new fans. 

“I have to admit, Nekochan, that I’m mostly looking forward to sharing a room with Josslin.  Do you think he’s interested?”

Neko gave a little yip. 

“Talking to things other people can’t see makes you look crazy, Hirokun.”

Hiro jumped as his grandfather exited the kitchen, scowling down at the floor.  He could sense enough to know Neko was in the room, but couldn’t see him as clearly as Hiro could.  “I know, grandfather.  We don’t talk in public, don’t worry.”

His grandfather sniffed.  “What if I’d had guests?”

“You’d have told me this morning if you were expecting anyone, grandfather.  Aren’t you going to ask me how the competition went?”

Shuichi Fujimiya sniffed again.  “Oh, very well,” he relented finally, and he smiled warmly, eyes crinkling.  “How was the competition?”

“ _We won!_ ”

His grandfather let out an unmanly shriek, reminding Hiro eerily of Noah.  “I knew you could do it, Hiro!  Congratulations!”  He lapsed into rapid Japanese for a moment, and then softened.  “Your parents would be very proud of you, grandson.”

Hiro turned to the little personal shrine in the corner that held some incense and his parents’ picture.  “I know they are, grandfather.” 

They shared a moment of silence, and then Shuichi shot Hiro a narrow-eyed glare.  “Now what’s this about a Josslin?” 

 

The unwitting object of their conversation was a few miles west, eating dinner out with his parents again.  Marianne had yet to stop crying, and Josslin was half-afraid she’d cry her way through the rest of his life. 

Jon was slightly alarmed.  “Are you sure there’s nothing I can get you, dear?  A napkin?  A bucket?”

Marianne smacked his arm while Josslin hid his snickers.  “Oh, be quiet.  It’s happy tears, you know.  I never thought I’d really see the day my baby became a pop star.”

Josslin glanced around the restaurant, not really wanting to draw more attention than they already had, but most of the other diners were ignoring them, taking Marianne’s tears for some sort of family drama.  “I’m not a baby,” Josslin started, reassured of their privacy. 

“You’ll always be my baby boy, Josslin Nathaniel, whether you’re seventeen or seventy.”

Knowing better than to argue with that tone, he changed the subject.  “Anyway, I’m not a pop star yet.  We’ve only just started.  I bet I could go to any one of these people and say, ‘Have you heard of KITE?’ and they’d look at me and say, ‘No, now leave me alone please.’”

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” Marianne began, but she was interrupted by the waitress.

“Isn’t KITE that new boy band Plettis-A is putting together?”

All three Coopers turned to stare at her.  Her face flushed a dull red.  “It was all over Twitter yesterday,” she mumbled.  “Anyway.  Um.  Are you ready to or- _Omigod,_ are you one of the contestants?” 

“What?”

Marianne leaned over and patted his shoulder consolingly.  “This is fame, honey, get used to it.”  She turned and graced the young waitress with a warm smile.  “This is my son, Josslin Cooper, and yes, he won the competition earlier this evening with four other young men.  They start tomorrow.”

The waitress was beside herself.  “This is gonna make a great story!” she gushed.  “My sister’s been talking of nothing but that competition since it was announced six months ago.  She’s never gonna forgive me for getting to meet you before you guys make it big!  Can I have your autograph for her?  Sign it to ‘Adrienne.’” 

Which was how Josslin found himself signing a napkin with the gel pen the waitress had on her note pad the same night he joined the group.

 

Noah flung the front door open wide and practically skipped inside.  His elation lasted all of about five minutes while he put his things away and went to the kitchen for a drink of water.  A broom came hurtling out of the darkness, and only long habit let him dodge it without injury.

“And where the hell have you been?” his stepfather growled.  Noah froze in the doorway.  Bill was always drunk, but usually at this time of night he was passed out in front of the television.

“I left a note on the fridge,” Noah said frostily, adding silently, _You drunken asshole._

“Like I have time to be reading every piece of shit you leave lying around.  Listen, you little punk, if you leave this house without telling me again I’ll –”

“What?  Beat me senseless?  Force me to cut my own wrists in the bathroom?  Go to hell.”  Noah abandoned the kitchen before his stepfather could lumber out of the wobbly plastic chair they had at the sorry excuse for a table, and gathered some clothes into a bag.  Bill was still negotiating his weight out of the seat without tipping the table over.  “I’m going to Adam’s,” Noah snapped.

“ _You little shit,_ you don’t talk to me like that!  Get back here!”

The door slammed behind him and he didn’t look back. 

 

Skip-Ahead Scene; Approximately a week before they move in together for the show.  Josslin gets Noah's address from the producers and goes to his house to drop something off.

 

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It was warm but not uncomfortably so.  Josslin felt more out of place because of the quality of his clothes than the thickness of them.  He'd known Noah lived in a trailer park, but he didn't realise it would be so... worn down.  It had a tarnished feel to it that hung in the air like a fog, and Josslin felt dirty just breathing.  Then he realised that it was a terrible thought to have, and that he shouldn't look down on Noah just because of where he lived, but it was almost impossible to imagine the irrepressibly energetic boy living in a dump like this.  Trash was piled up in corners, broken toys lay scattered across overgrown lawns.  Paint was peeling off walls, windows were broken or missing, and once or twice he thought he heard gunshots coming from somewhere deeper in the neighbourhood. 

Josslin shuddered, and kept walking, wishing fervently that his car wasn't in the shop.  Then again, judging by the rusted Fords up on blocks in several yards, bringing something like an Acura into this neighbourhood might very well have painted a target on his back.  Maybe by catching the bus and walking in, he was saving his own life.

He reminded himself not to be unkind, found Noah's street, and turned onto it, following the curve until he found the right number. 

There was no outward sign that Noah Crawford lived there, except perhaps in the way the grass showed some signs of having been cut in the last three years, and the yard was less full of trash than the neighbours.  Josslin picked his way carefully up the slightly-overgrown path and knocked sharply on the door.

A large man in a beer-stained wife-beater tank top and three days of growth on his chin answered it a few minutes later.  Josslin wrinkled his nose involuntarily as the smell washed over him.

"The hell do you want?" he rumbled. 

"Hi, my name's Josslin Cooper," Josslin started, and found himself talking to the door.

"Not buying nothing," the man hollered from inside. 

Deeply insulted, Josslin knocked again.  The door flew open and the man glared at him. 

Josslin pasted on his brightest, fakest smile. "I'm not selling anything, sir, I'm looking for Noah."

If anything, the man's expression darkened.  "I told that little freak to keep his goddamn friends away from my goddamn house," he growled.  "Noah's not here, and if he's smart he's not coming back.  Check Adam's house, he practically lives there anyway.  And the next time I see you on my property, you little shit, I'm gonna shoot you first and worry about what the hell you want later."

The door slammed again.  Josslin blinked at it, completely bemused.  Fortunately, Adam lived only a couple of blocks away, and Josslin blessed the foresight that lead him to writing everyone's addresses down in case of such circumstances. 

Even a couple of blocks made a difference.  In a different side of the park, these trailers were clean and well kept, and many of them were double-wide.  It might have been any suburban neighbourhood if only the houses were cemented to the ground.  Hardly believing that such a nice culdesac could exist practically side by side with the trailer-trash ghetto across the street, Josslin started in.  His Acura wouldn't be out of place in this part of the neighbourhood, and he saw many other luxury vehicles lining the neatly trimmed drives. 

He found Adam's house without difficulty, and his knock was greeted by a warmly smiling woman who superficially resembled Adam.

"You must be Josslin.  Come in, please, the boys are in the back.  Would you like something to drink?"  She stepped back, holding the door for him. 

"No, thank you, Mrs. West.  I came to drop of the song lyrics and a cd for Noah, but his dad said he was here."

She scowled.  "I really don't like that man, and I hate to speak ill of anybody, but he's a nasty drunkard and I do believe he drove poor Noah's mother to her death."

"I noticed the drunkard part," Josslin said.  "He smelled like the inside of a beer can.  So Noah's really here?  I'm really sorry to bother you, Mrs. West."

She smiled again, erasing the frown lines marring her skin.  "Of course he's here.  I'd have had him move in long ago, but he's stubborn.  It's straight down that hallway, last door on the left."

He took his shoes off and left them in the cubby by the door before making his way down the hall.  Music blared from the room, oddly familiar, and he realised with a jolt it was Press Play.  He knocked politely and waited a few seconds; fortunately, they heard it over the music and the door swung open to reveal Noah, who looked surprised for all of about three seconds before the smile was back. 

In light of what Josslin had just learned about his home life, it was even more bizarre that the younger boy still managed to smile like that. 

“Josslin!” he shrieked, and launched himself.  Josslin found himself with an armful of teenager, and had to juggle the packet he’d brought before it dropped to the floor. 

“Hello to you, too,” Josslin said, laughing.  “It’s only been two days, you can’t have missed me that much.”

Noah let go and stepped back and allowed Josslin into the room.  Adam looked up with a small smile and gave a half-wave in greeting. 

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you since we became KITE, though,” Noah reasoned.  “What’s up?”

Josslin held up the packet.  “I was down at the studio talking to Miles and he asked me if I’d bring you guys the lyrics to the new songs.  There’s a couple of CDs in there with the music, too, and the demo tracks.”

Adam cleared his throat.  “Not that we’re not grateful,” he said softly.  Josslin had to strain to hear him.  “But how did you know to come here?”

Josslin made a face.  “No offense intended, Noah, but your father is one of the most unpleasant people I’ve ever met.” 

Noah matched his expression.  “You went to my house first?  I’m sorry.  I should have told you I spend most of my time here.  It’s much more pleasant an atmosphere, and I’m happier when I’m not surrounded by constant hatred.”

Josslin thought, _What an odd thing to say._   But he couldn’t figure out a polite way to reply to it before Noah cut him off.

“It’s not odd, it’s just normal for me.  OH!  I forgot you didn’t know.”  He shared a mischievous grin with Adam, whose eyes seemed to twinkle.  There was clearly a joke of some sort that Josslin wasn’t getting.  “I’d prefer this wasn’t common knowledge, but if you run out of here screaming, I guess I’ll understand.”  Noah mock-pouted for a moment.  “But I’m psychic.”

He said it so blandly that it took Josslin a few seconds to comprehend.  There was no more emphasis to it than if he’d announced he was short, or spastic, or that Adam was quiet.  It was just a simple fact.

“Excuse me?”

Noah grinned widely at Adam.  “I love this part.  Remember when I told you?  You _did_ run screaming.”  Adam ducked his head, and Josslin’s eyes crossed momentarily, trying to picture Adam doing anything as active as _running_ and _screaming._   Noah turned back.  “I can prove it to you, if you’d like.  Oh, this one’s a really popular test in the labs.”  He rooted around in Adam’s desk drawer for a moment, popping back up with two pieces of scrap paper and a pen and a pencil.  “I’ll go into the living room, and you draw something in here.  I’ll copy it from out there.”

“Labs?” Josslin asked, but Noah was already flitting out the door.  He turned to Adam.  “True?”

“True,” Adam said softly, and then grinned to match Noah.  It was startling, because he was much better looking when he smiled that way.  “And I did run screaming when he first did that to me.  I was only ten years old.  Go ahead and draw something.  I promise he’ll surprise you.”

It was the most Adam had said at one time the entire time Josslin had known him, so with a shrug, he settled down at the desk and began to doodle. It was completely random, and he spent nearly twenty minutes on it, focused on adding curly-cues and spirals and flowers and spikes and stars.  It filled up nearly the entire page when he was done, and he showed it off to Adam.  “If he can match this from the living room, I just might run screaming from the room,” he joked, not really expecting much.  Noah swept back into the room brandishing his own paper. 

“You were concentrating on it so hard I could have heard you and copied it from Kentucky,” he announced, and displayed the paper.  Josslin took it from him and displayed the two drawings side by side. 

It wasn’t an exact match – Josslin’s had more detail, and some of the spirals on Noah’s were smaller or bigger than the ones Josslin had drawn.  But it was damn close.  Josslin’s chest felt tight as the room spun alarmingly around him.  He sat down hard.  “I –” he started, swallowed, tried again.  “You –”

“Told you I was psychic.  Been tested by every lab in the continental United States and I’ve beaten all their tests.”  Noah was so blasé about it that some of the shock died down.  Okay.  He was psychic, and that was how things were. 

“So you can read minds and stuff?”

Noah practically glowed.  “You’re taking this remarkably well.”  Josslin shrugged, and Noah matched the motion.  “Not really the way you’re thinking.  I have to concentrate really hard to know what people are thinking, and it only works if they’re not – what’s the word, Adam?”

Adam raised an eyebrow.  “Paying attention?”

“I guess.  Like if you’re focused on me, like you are now, I can only pick up on things that are really … loud, I guess.  Or focused.  But Nicole – that’s Adam’s mom – she’s thinking about what to make for dinner, and how much laundry needs to be done, and that the bag on the vacuum needs changing.  Oh, she’s coming to ask what we’d like for dinner.”

On cue, Mrs. West knocked once on the door before opening it.  “Hello, boys!  Josslin, are you staying for dinner?”  She noticed the drawings on the desk and giggled.  “You told him, then?”  To Josslin, “Did you freak out too?”

Josslin shook his head.  “I’m still trying to… it’s weird, but not … bad.”  He didn’t know how to put his thoughts in order.  Noah grinned anyway and slung an arm around his shoulder.

“He’ll deal with it.  We’d like chicken teriyaki, please, and Adrian’s going to be late.  His practice ran into overtime,” he added.  Josslin looked startled.

Mrs. West just smiled.  “Adrian is my other son.  You get used to it.  Dinner, Josslin?”

He blinked.  “I’ll have to call and let my family know so they don’t worry.” 

“That’s good,” she said.  “I saw your parents at the competition, but we didn’t have much time to say hi.  I’d like to get together sometime, so please invite them at their earliest convenience.”

Josslin blinked.  “Oh.  Okay.  Thank you.”  He called his mother, who was delighted to be invited to meet the other parents, and excited that he was already getting along so well with the other boys.

After dinner, they were back in Adam’s room, listening to the demos.  Adam was on his bed, and Noah had an air mattress inflated on the other side of the room.  Josslin lay on the floor between them, doodling again.  Gradually the conversation came around to their other bandmates.

“I don’t get a good vibe off of Zack.  I hope he doesn’t cause problems,” Noah was saying. 

“It’s a five year contract, so even if he does, we’ll just have to deal with it,” Josslin replied.  “Besides, what’s the worst he can do?”

“Besides make us miserable for the foreseeable future?”

Adam snorted from the bed.  Noah chuckled.  Josslin looked between them, lost. 

“Foresight is one of Noah’s gifts,” Adam offered, taking pity on him.  He turned to look at Noah, who had an expression of angelic innocence pasted on his face. 

“It’s not concrete – don’t ask me for lottery numbers or anything.”

“Wow,” said Josslin, completely in awe.  “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Fly,” Adam and Noah said in unison.  This time all three of them laughed. 

Noah sobered after a minute, and turned pensive.  “You’re okay, of course, Josslin, and I’ve been best friends with Adam for almost seven years, so I know he’s good.  Zack worries me a little bit, but not as much as Hiro.”

Josslin’s ears perked up.  “What about him?”

“I know you like him,” Noah said, and then snickered.  “And actually, if you liked him any more I’d be trying to kiss him myself.  But no, there’s something… weird… about him.  I can’t put my finger on it, but he’s not being truthful about something, or if he’s not outright lying, he’s definitely hiding it.  I just don’t know what it is.”

Josslin fought down a blush, and tried to think back on whether or not he’d noticed anything subversive about Hiro.  “Maybe we should just ask him about it?”

Noah and Adam exchanged a glance.  “Maybe,” Noah said, noncommittally. 

 

The next day was Josslin’s scheduled trailer shoot, whatever that meant.  He had no idea what to expect, as they were doing them one by one so as to keep the secret for as long as possible.  It turned out to be an ordeal.  He was in hair and makeup for nearly an hour, and when he looked in the mirror after they were done, could barely tell anything had been done to him.  His hair was still long and feathery at the bottom, and his face didn’t look much different – until he looked closely.  They’d put a full complement of makeup on him, more than even what his mother wore out to fancy dinners.  His eyes were framed by both eyeliner and faint green shadow, bringing the colours out vibrantly.  It did, he admitted after a few minutes of inspection, look good.  He didn’t _quite_ look like he was wearing makeup, which was emasculating in and of itself, but he did look enhanced. 

When he was done checking it out, the makeup people left and were replaced by costumers carting an entire rack full of clothes. 

“And I thought the makeup was an ordeal,” Josslin complained once, nearly two hours into the session.  It was constant – put this on, try this, take that off, add this other thing. 

He ended up in skinny jeans, boots, a tight tee-shirt, and scarf, with accessories including a huge necklace, earrings, rings, two separate belts, and bracelets.  Josslin sighed when he got a look at himself in the mirror.  Since his normal style was defined by the word “baggy” he felt constricted in the form-fitting clothes. 

One of the costuming assistants grinned at him, reminding Josslin of Noah, who’d already gone through this process.  He wanted to text him or Hiro and find out how it went for them, but they were expressly forbidden from discussing it with anyone – even each other. 

“Look on the bright side,” the assistant said, taking note of his expression.  “You look _damn good._   Those girls won’t know what hit them.”

“Girls?”  He hadn’t seen any girls anywhere.

She sighed.  “Hiro said the same thing.  You’re a _boy band_ ,” she reminded him.  “Your target audience will be screaming teenaged girls.”

Oh, right.  Josslin sighed gustily.  “I’d forgotten about that.”

“It happens.”  She patted his shoulder negligently and moved on, shooing him from the room. 

The actual trailer itself seemed to be easy after all the hassle he’d gone through to get to this point.  He was propped up on a chaise lounge, and instructed to look slowly around and try to smolder.  Cameras flashed on all sides as he moved, and he was only peripherally aware of the three video cameras on him from different angles. 

They paused for a moment, gave him some water, and then instructed him to sing a slow version of one of the demo songs he’d received.  It took a few false starts, but he managed it while still keeping the ‘sultry, bedroom eyes’ the director liked so much. 

“You’ll be recording a neat version of that in the studio before you leave, of course, but we needed you to sing now so we know how to line it up,” the director told him.  Josslin’s eyes popped open just in time to be blinded by the flash of a camera directly in front of him.  “And we’re done,” called the director.  “You can keep the clothes, by the way.  Your whole wardrobe is provided for by the company, and you’ll eventually need to start keeping your image up in public as well.  Do you have any great sentimental attachment to the things you wore in here?”

He shook his head.  “Not really,” he said, truthfully.  He’d always gone for ‘comfortable’ with his clothes, and didn’t particularly care about any of them.  Clothes were just clothes. 

“Okay, good, we’re probably going to burn them.  Once we take you shopping, I never want to see anything that ugly on you again.  Once you go back to being  a civilian you can wear whatever you want, but from this day forward you’re a rising star and you need to dress like one.”

Josslin blinked, completely take by surprise.  “Okay.”

Miles appeared, bobbing energetically.  “That went really well!  We just have to go record a clean version of the song now, and then you’re done.  Next week, we’ll start with the show.  You’re aware that you’ll be living in an apartment with the others for at least the next six months, right?  We’ve settled things with your parents, but you’ll need to make sure you pack anything sentimental or useful that you won’t be able to do without, and say goodbye to your friends.  We’ll be bringing in tutors for you for the duration so your schooling doesn’t fall behind, but it can still be kind of a shock to suddenly be away from your parents for any length of time.”

“I’m seventeen, not seven.  Besides, my parents are both musicians, and they used to be away a lot when I was younger.  I’m used to it.”

Miles looked sceptical.  “It’s still going to be a big adjustment.  You’re an only child, right?  You’ve suddenly got four brothers you’ll be living with.  The personality tests revealed you five as being compatible, and from what I’ve seen you’re all bonding okay so far,”

Josslin interrupted.  “Except Zack.  I haven’t seen him at all since the competition.”

“He’s been busy with another commitment.  He started as a backup dancer for _expand_ , you know.  We meant what we promised the boys who lost the KITE competition about being given preference in the next competition.  But anyway, they’re on tour right now and he’s been helping train the new dancers.”

Since this neither confirmed nor denied Noah’s suspicions about Zack – suspicions Josslin was ready to dismiss either way, since he also said Hiro was hiding something serious and Josslin – who generally considered himself a good judge of character – just couldn’t see it.  Maybe it was serious for Hiro, but not something that would affect the rest of them. 

_Well, as Miles just reminded me, we’ll be living together for the next six months.  Surely something’ll turn up._

In fact, the whole set up was weird.  He’d never heard of artists doing reality shows, or if they did it was stupid shit like Paris Hilton on a farm or the Kardashian sisters going shopping.  Apparently, since Plettis-A was an American off-shoot from some Asian companies, they were doing it the Asian way.  Josslin shrugged to himself.  If it worked.

Then they were at the small recording room and it was time to record the ballad cover of Sky High.

 

Hiro and Josslin were scheduled to do their major shopping at the same time, and they wrangled it so that Adam and Noah would come with them as well.  Since the Plettis-A producers figured this might cut down on the time spent on frivolities, they allowed it.  Miles went as well, and had final say over every purchase.  They’d all already had the spiel about their public image, and the only one who had major problems with it was Josslin. 

As hard as he tried, however, Hiro couldn’t get it out of him as to why. 

“Did they put you in a dress?”

Josslin scowled.  “They may as well have.  I don’t really care about what I wear, but I felt naked.”

Hiro looked him up and down.  “And this is a problem why?”

“Keep your hormones to yourself, guys, this is a public mall!” Noah called from ahead of them.  Josslin flushed. 

It was Hiro’s first real experience in a mall; he’d been in America for nearly ten years, but rarely had time for frivolous things like shopping sprees.  Usually he went to a department store or all-purpose chain, and got only what he needed.  This – grabbing whatever he liked and adding it to the growing pile, it was liberating in a way.  Miles divided his time between them, double checking their choices to make sure it was fitting for their new ‘image.’ 

Before the camera crews arrived, Hiro could hear Josslin raising the biggest fuss over it.  It renewed his curiousity about what sort of ‘style’ they were trying to push on his new friend, who had admitted on more than one occasion that he didn’t particularly care about clothes and wore only what was comfortable. 

Then Hiro turned a corner and came face to face with a huge camera wielded by a pleasant-faced young man.  “Good morning,” he said, almost automatically. 

“You’re supposed to be pretending the cameras aren’t here,” the man reminded him. 

“Then I was greeting the fans.  I could have said something much worse, considering how you startled me.”

Behind the lens, the man quirked half a smile.  “Fair enough.”

Hiro moved on, finding the accessories section.

(a few days into the filming of the show, just after the boys are all moved in.  Josslin returns from a solo photo shoot.)

Josslin flopped onto the couch, laying his head on Hiro's lap.  "Ugh," he said.  "I never want to hear the phrase 'sultry bedroom eyes' again."

Noah looked up from his game, laughing.  "What?"

"If you didn't hear it the first time, I'm not repeating it."

Hiro threaded his fingers through Josslin's hair.  "What's wrong with it?"

"My photographer.  I don't know if she was taking my picture or writing a romance novel."

Zack smirked over at them.  "I see you've met Candace."

"The Menace is more like it." 

"No, Candace the Menace just doesn't have the right sound to it.  Wrong vowels."

Josslin rolled his eyes.  "Well, we'll figure something out, I'm sure."

"It couldn't have been that bad," Hiro said.  Josslin stared up at him, and then exchanged a glance with Zack.  They cracked up in unison. 

"Oh, Hero, you have no idea how bad Candace can be," Zack said.

"'Now give me a smoky stare,'" Josslin imitated, raising his voice to falsetto.  "Sultry, sexy, and steamy.  I want you to look right through this camera and make those girls feel like you're staring into their souls straight through the pages.'  Like I said," he continued in his normal voice.  "I think she was practicing her harlequin out on me."

"Maybe she's hoping to cast you as her main character," Adam offered.  Josslin shuddered. 

"Well, if you turn up on the cover of any romances, we know who's to blame," Noah said.  Josslin threw a pillow at him. 

(A few weeks into the filming of the show)

"I'm getting a little bit tired of these cameras," Josslin complained.  He and Hiro were in the bathroom together brushing their teeth, the one place the camera crews didn't follow them. 

"Always in your face," Hiro said through a mouth full of toothpaste.  Josslin made a face at him and he rinsed it out.  "It does get tiresome."  Sudden humour glinted in his dark eyes.  Josslin felt his mouth go dry, and swallowed hard.  "I have an idea.  I just remembered this.  It's called 'fanservice.'"

"Fan-what?"

"Service.  It's exactly what it sounds like.  The fans, the girls, they go crazy for this."  He leaned in. 

"For what?"

Hiro kissed him full on the mouth.  It was a romance novelists wet dream of a kiss, and their mouths were still closed.  It took Josslin a moment to recover when Hiro pulled back despite the brevity of the kiss. 

"For kissing," Josslin said when he'd got his breath back.

"For BOYS kissing," Hiro corrected.  "Hot boys, making out, touching, flirting, and being cute together."

"How do you even know this?"

"I'm gay, Josslin, and ninety percent of my friends are female.  They do tell me things because I'm 'safe' and also because you can only hear 'Why don't you ever kiss your boyfriend around us?' so many times before it becomes annoying."

Josslin felt cold all over.  "Boyfriend," he said.  Hiro shrugged.

"Ex, now.  He couldn't deal with - well, some problems of mine.  When he found out, he freaked, and hasn't talked to me since."

Curiousity was overwhelming.  Could this be the secret Noah kept hinting that Hiro was keeping?  They all knew there was something off about him, but no one could put their finger on exactly what it was; not even Noah, who was generally quite astute at things like that.  "Will you tell me?  I promise not to freak out.  I'm getting good at handling - weird."  It was the most he could say without giving away Noah's secret, either.   

Hiro looked thoughtful for a long moment.  Sucking his lower lip into his mouth, he considered Josslin, who considered the sight of straight, white teeth worrying at the soft skin of his lip.  He’d never realised how intriguing it looked before. 

“Not yet,” Hiro said finally.  Josslin felt a pang of disappointment, at both his words and the fact that he stopped fidgeting.  “Maybe someday, though.”  He rinsed his mouth out, ran the toothbrush under the faucet to wash away the remaining paste, and left Josslin in the bathroom alone. 

 

(Move in day)

Noah waved goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. West, looked at Adam, and took a deep breath as he turned to face the apartment they’d be sharing for the foreseeable future.  Someone jogged up behind them; he turned and greeted Zack. 

Unlike Josslin, who was an open book, Zack made Noah nervous simply because he couldn’t get a solid read on him.  It was like his head was surrounded by a fog Noah couldn’t penetrate no matter how hard he concentrated.  He’d already given himself a migraine when he’d tried at the meeting. 

“Home sweet home, boys,” Zack said, shifting his weight.  “Hiro and Josslin will be here in a couple hours; they got held up in traffic.”

 

Noah was sitting outside with Adam, peering around the neighbourhood, when a scary-looking black van pulled up.  The back door slid open to reveal a lanky emo-style boy who looked unhappy.  Adam gasped, but Noah didn’t get it until Hiro popped out behind him.  Emo-boy was Josslin!

Noah whistled.  Hiro flashed him a thumbs-up and a grin, but Josslin just continued to look miserable.  “It makes a nice change from the Prep-School look,” Noah told him, and got up both to get out of the way and to help Josslin haul the massive suitcase he was dragging. 

  “I guess I lied,” Josslin said. Noah looked at him sharply.  “I _do_ care about clothes.  I really hate these jeans.” 

Noah considered himself straight, but his – _condition –_ often gave him insights most people would be happier without; that’s how he found himself suddenly checking Josslin’s legs and ass out in the near-skin-tight jeans, his eyes dipping down and back up without checking with his brain first.  “I think they look good,” he said as neutrally as he could. 

Hiro nudged him.  “I’ve been telling him that the whole way up here, but he just refuses to listen.”

“Wash them a lot,” Adam put in unexpectedly.  “Or wear them a lot.  Once you break them in they won’t be so uncomfortable.”

Josslin gave him a flat look.  “That does me no good _now,_ ” he complained. 

“Man up, Josslin.  We’re meeting in the back courtyard as soon as you and Hiro get your stuff unpacked for a quick practice session to make sure no one’s forgotten the dance.”  Zack surveyed them from the front door, and then, having delivered his orders, retreated back inside.   

“Nice of him to offer to help,” Noah grunted as Adam and Hiro slipped past carrying Hiro’s three bags.  They were all smaller than Josslin’s, for all that there were more of them, but Noah was willing to bet that it was lighter.  “What did you bring with you, the kitchen sink?”

“Most of its shoes.  They have very specific ideas about what my ‘look’ should be.”

Noah glanced over at him again.  “I’m not even into guys and I think you look hot,” he said. 

“If I kill myself walking around in heavy boots when I’m used to sandals or sneakers, then it won’t matter what I look like,” Josslin said petulantly.  He sighed.  “I’m just being a brat.  They were so happy when I said I didn’t care about clothes.”

“You look like a semi-depressed rainbow.”  His shirt, pants, and boots were black, but his belt, bracelet, and earrings were multi-coloured. 

“That’s so reassuring.”

“Five minutes, guys!” Zack hollered.  Noah swore under his breath.

“Who died and made him king?”

 

(Near the end, final confrontation with Zack)

Josslin pulled out his phone, intending to text Hiro and find out if he wanted to go for dinner that night.  Zack swerved suddenly and Josslin’s fingers slipped across the digital keyboard.  Without even realising what had happened, his phone dialed instead of opening  a text. 

“Zack, where are we even going?”

Zack sighed.  “I want you to know, it’s not personal.”

Something in his tone sent shivers of ice down Josslin’s spine.  “Excuse me?”

Zack shook his head, minute trembles wracking him visibly.  He turned a devastated expression on Josslin, who stepped back involuntarily.  “It’s not personal.  I have to do this.  It’s for my mother.”  His lips curled.  “You still have both your parents, so you don’t understand.” 

Josslin still didn’t get it.  “What are you saying?”

That’s when he saw the gun.

 

Hiro brightened when his cell phone began ringing.  Josslin had gone shopping with Zack almost an hour before, and he was beginning to miss having him around. 

“That’s the problem with living in each other’s pockets,” Noah remarked in response to his thoughts.  Hiro still wasn’t entirely comfortable with Noah’s abilities, but he never abused them, and he’d accepted Neko’s presence with far more ease than even Hiro himself had.

“Hey,” Hiro said, answering the phone instead of Noah.  He heard Zack and Josslin talking, and sighed.  “Pocket-dial,” he said, and started to hang up.  Then Zack’s voice came through with such a weird tone that even Noah sat up and leaned in to listen.  Hiro put it on speaker.

“It’s not personal.  I have to do this.”

“I don’t,” Josslin said, his voice tinny.  “Where – why do you –?”

Noah made an aborted lunge for the phone.  “Come on, Josslin, finish a sentence.  What’s going on?”

“Shh!”

The unmistakable sound of the emergency brake being engaged nearly echoed.  “Out,” Zack ordered.  They heard the doors being opened and closed. 

Noah’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head as he collapsed.  Adam was at his side before he hit the ground.  With fluttering eyelashes, Noah groaned.

“They’re in the wildlife reserve.  The state park.” 

“Adam, can you drive?” 

 


End file.
